


Saturday Crash

by chocolattemocha



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Gender Dysphoria, Its just... oof, Other, Sad robot monster man cries his eyes out, Trans Male Character, Uhhh artsy ways to describe being trans i guess???, Wanting to self harm?, Why did I name this after a technique in DBZ, idk what else to tag this as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 17:38:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15224327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolattemocha/pseuds/chocolattemocha
Summary: It's a disconnection. One that loves to make itself known. One that loves to cause suffering.





	Saturday Crash

**Author's Note:**

> Uh yeah writing while dealing with dysphoria is bad kids, don't do it.

Wrong. He felt so wrong. He couldn’t pin down _why_ he felt like that but he just knew that it felt horrible. Lambda wanted to pin down the problem. Was he the problem? It sure seemed like it from the way his emotions flared when he glanced down to see a pair of boobs instead of the flat chest he had always wanted.

Yep. He definitely was the problem. 

But how could he make it stop? Why was he the problem? Was he broken? Would dying help this? 

That couldn’t have been it. It wasn’t it. 

He doesn’t even know he’s crying until he feel something warm roll down his cheek. Lambda quickly wipes it away but it's not long before more tears fall, whether he wants them to or not. His attention turns to focus on not crying. He’s determined not to show any weakness, not to prove a point to anyone, but to himself. But it doesn’t work and soon enough he’s sitting on the ground bawling like a little kid, exclaiming how it just wasn’t fair. He doesn’t care how childish he sounds at the moment, he’s hurting and it’s the only way he can express himself. **It. Just. Wasn't. Fair.**

Why wasn't he fortunate enough to be born as a man?! 

Nature was like a printer, and he was a paper. Pristine and waiting to have a nice photo come out perfectly. And the printer jammed while making him and the photo came out wrong. 

A part of him just wants to sink those dangerously sharp nails, those metal claws, into his own chest and rip those… **_wretched_** _things_ off. But he doesn’t follow through on his thoughts. He never does when it comes to his body. Lambda just sits there, sobbing, until the sun rises. 


End file.
